Rock did not want to admit to his mother that it would. “Mother. I’m upset that you kept it from me.”
Waving a hand, Duchess Claire sighed. She was a proud woman, but Rock knew that she cared for him. Since Louise, it had been difficult for him to find the drive to go back out into society. Inviting couples to his home just reminded him of what he had lost.
“I suppose it would not be a bad thing to get back out into society.” He ran a hand over his face.
Duchess Claire reached out a hand, squeezing his wrist. “I wish for you to be happy, Andrew.”
Rock nodded, braving a smile. He thought of his boys, of the life he was giving them by remaining within his house. He wished for them to have the bright futures that Louise had envisioned for them. Spending many nights wishing things were different that they had just one child and Louise had made it through often ran through his head. He tried not to, could never resent his sons for existing, but that didn’t prevent his heartbreak.
Pulling back, Duchess Claire placed her napkin next to her plate and indicated for Andrea, one of their maids, to collect the dishes. She did so, giving Rock a smile that he found difficult not to return. Her mother was the estate housekeeper, extremely competent at her job, and though Rock did know Andrea as well, she kept her head down and stayed out of the way. It was what Rock appreciated most about his staff.
Aside from Miss Williams, who would always be special just as the person who cared so much for his children.
“I have agreed, Mother,” Rock told her.
Though he was uncomfortable, Rock found himself less worried about the impending dinner than he was a little impressed that his mother had invited so many guests without him knowing. Miss Williams would not reveal whether she had known, not even when he asked her directly. He had never been able to read her expressions and could not say whether she was hiding things from him.
He tried not to analyze why it would be a problem.
“I hope we are prepared.” The afternoon was drawing on, and Duchess Claire was addressing Josephine, who was in charge of making the evening run smoothly. Rock knew that everything was in hand, trusted their staff, but his mother had far less patience for anything getting in the way of a dinner.
He left them to it, making his way to the downstairs nursery, where he could hear James and Bruce giggling and playing together. He felt a pang at the thought that one day they would be too old for such happiness, preoccupied as they would be with lessons and learning their place as sons of a Duke.
Pausing in the doorway, he could see Laura sat on the rocking chair in the corner, a boy on each knee, and a book balanced between them. He often wondered how she managed both children at once when she was so slight and fragile, but she never complained, and she had never accepted his offer of help. He could force it, he knew, but it would leave a bad taste in his mouth to upset her. He cared for her and would not see her hurt.
Leaving them to their book, he disappeared upstairs to get ready for dinner. He was not looking forward to the evening, but perhaps it would not be as bad as he his heart was telling him it would be.
Thankfully, his heart didn’t seem to be on the mark. Though it had been a long time since he had seen some guests—the Duke and Duchess of Stratford, the Earl of Plymouth and his mother, and Lord and Lady Highwood—the introductions went smoothly, and even the condolences and the cheek kisses weren’t enough to have Rock fleeing for his room.
“I can remember when you two would play as children,” Lady Plymouth said, looking between Rock and Plym. Plym had been a wild child and Rock could remember the scrapes and bruises they would come home with, only to be chastised and told that it was no way for young men to behave. They had continued to do it.
“Mother,” Plym chastises.
“Now,” Rebecca, the Duchess of Stratford, had been another friend growing up. When she’d married Stratford, he’d been accepted into the fold and Rock liked his business sense—and his sense of humor. “You know we like to reminisce sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Duchess Claire said dryly. “Hooligans, all of you.”
It was a favorite word of his mother to call them all; she would mutter it as she called for the nurses to wash up and redress the children for dinner. A laugh went up around the table, and Rock could feel himself relaxing, enjoying the atmosphere of the party, even with the crushing sadness still settled in his chest.
A sign, perhaps, that he could still live and enjoy his time without Louise and not have to drown in guilt every time he did something fun. After the main course, when dessert was being brought out to the table, Rock and Plym were arguing about one of their more adventurous outings when the family butler, Larkin, slipped into the room, expression apologetic, and ducked his head towards Rock.
“My apologies, sir, but there has been an incident in the library.”
Rock’s brow furrowed. “An incident?”
He kept his voice low, didn’t want to alert anyone around the table to whatever was happening.
“The children’s nanny, Miss Williams, has been attacked.”
Rock’s heart immediately seized, and he pushed away from the table. “Please excuse me a moment.”
Duchess Claire looked at him, concerned, and though he wanted to explain, there wasn’t time enough for it. He followed Larkin into the library, heart in his mouth.
“The children?” Rock asked.
“Unharmed,” Larkin told him. “They are still in bed.”
“Thank goodness,” Rock muttered, pushing past Larkin into the library. One of the maids, a young girl Rock had never seen before, had Miss Williams propped up on of the sofas, a cloth pressed to a wound on her forehead. Rock immediately gestured for her to move.
“Larkin, please send everyone home immediately.”
Miss Williams looked at him, her face pale and expression forlorn. The wound on her head was bleeding but not enough for Rock to worry they needed a doctor.
“Her Grace,” Larkin said looking apprehensively at the door. “She will require an explanation.”
“A member of the household has been attacked.” Rock kept his tone hard, though as he turned to Miss Williams, touching the area around the wound delicately, he smiled tightly to put her at ease. “I think that is reason enough.”
Thankfully Larkin disappeared before Rock could lose what was left of his temper. He took up the cloth the maid had discarded, dipping the edge into the bowl of water on the coffee table.
“What happened?”
“I had a message from Cook,” Miss Williams told him, closing her eyes as he dabbed at the wound. “She told me Her Grace wished to speak with me about the dinner urgently. When I arrived here, I was ambushed. I did not see anybody.”
“That is alright,” Rock said tightly. It was anything but alright, but he didn’t want to worry Miss Williams. She had suffered a scare and an injury, and he did not wish her to have to relive the moments too strenuously. “How is your head?”
“Painful,” Miss Williams admitted.
With blood matting her forehead and her hair, Rock cleaned the wound as best he was able and bandaged it. For such a small wound it looked excessive, but he did not want to take any chances.
“There,” he said, dropping the cloth into the bowl of water. It was now a reddish color, and he felt his stomach lurch at the thought of how deep the wound had been. Nevertheless, all Miss Williams needed now was rest.
“I think I wish to go to bed.” Miss Williams closed her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose.
“If you are in pain, I shall have someone bring you some feverfew and some water.” Rock considered the fact that Miss Williams would be alone all night. Head wounds were something he had knowledge of, with his family having a very good physician. “I shall have Larkin or one of the maids check in on you through the night.”
“You do not have to.” Miss Williams was still pale and though she looked reluctant, there was a softness to her eyes that let
Rock know that she appreciated his thinking of her.
“Nonsense,” Rock said with authority. He rose from the sofa, holding out a hand for her to take it, and after only a brief hesitation, she slipped her hand into his. He stayed with her as they climbed the stairs; Miss Williams had a room on the same floor as the children, should they need her for whatever reason. Rock liked to be there for his boys, but it was not always practical to be the one they called for.
When Miss Williams parted with him at the door to her room, she gave him a kind smile despite the bandage on her head and the how white her skin was. As soon as she was safely inside, Rock headed back downstairs, calling for Larkin. Duchess Claire caught him in the hall, leaning against her stick and looking apprehensive.
“What has happened?”
“Miss Williams was attacked,” Rock said, his voice tight.
Lady Claire’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “We will have to discuss this with the staff. Someone must know what happened.”
“Everybody in the dining room–”
“They were understanding,” Duchess Claire said with a dismissive wave. “I am more concerned with Laura.”
Rock envied his mother the ability to call Miss Williams by her given name. He knew they were close and had been when Laura had lived in the cottage in the grounds. It was one of the reasons he had been so ready to accept her as a nanny for his children.
“She has gone to bed. I need to have Larkin check on her through the night.” Rock called for the butler to meet him in the hall. He gave his mother the once over. “You look tired, Mother. Perhaps you should rest.”
For a moment, it seemed as if Duchess Claire would protest and refuse, but she acquiesced with a sigh. “Very well. Please keep me updated if anything should happen.”
“I will,” Rock promised. Tomorrow, he would try to get to the bottom of what had happened to Miss Williams.
Chapter 3
Poison Pen
Though the attack in the library had been frightening and Rockford and Duchess Claire did their best to get to the bottom of it, nobody could say who had been in the library. Cook had received a message through one of the footmen, but she could not remember which one. When none of the footmen would own up to who had given them the message, Rockford let them all go.
Laura tried not to feel guilty. She had been attacked for reasons nobody could figure out, and even with the footmen gone she could not deny that she was frightened. James and Bruce kept her busy enough and though Rock often checked in on her and the children, Laura managed to approach normalcy in her routines.
A few days after the dismissal of the footmen, more were hired from within the surrounding areas. Some of them had worked at other estates for years and others were new, still making mistakes. Laura ran into one of them while she was carrying the boys’ dinner, narrowly avoiding being thrown down as the footman, Perry, hurried into her.
“I’m so sorry,” Perry said immediately, holding out his hands. It was unnecessary, Laura had managed to stay on her feet. She accepted the apology by inclining her head. “Miss Williams?”
Laura nodded. “Am I being called?”
“No,” Perry said, but he had a piece of paper in his hand, folded and with Laura’s name scribbled on the front. “This was in the kitchen. I don’t know who left it.”
Laura asked Perry to slip it into the pocket of her apron. She had her hands full and would read it as soon as the children were eating. It took them a while to do so, both stubborn, as if they could sense the unease in the house. The letter was almost forgotten about as she put the boys down for their afternoon nap. It wasn’t until she was relaxing back in the chair in their room, letter scrunching up in the pocket as she shifted, that she remembered to take a look at it.
My dear Miss Williams. I know what you are trying to do with His Grace. Stay away from him or your pretty face will bear the scars.
Laura pressed a hand to her mouth, heart pounding. The paper was shaking, or rather her hand was, and she shoved it into her pocket once again, not knowing what to do. Part of her wished to show Rockford or Lady Claire—they would want to know. She did not know how seriously to take the threats, but she couldn’t bother the household with this. Perhaps there was someone on the staff who did not like her.
Perry had been the one to give her the letter, so instead of going to Rockford or Lady Claire, she would find out from him who had requested she be given the letter. There was no sense upsetting the fragile equilibrium that had fallen over the house since the attack in the library until she knew for sure that this wasn’t an awful prank.
After two more letters arrived, Laura cornered Perry, afraid that she would have to confess all despite her attempts to keep it quiet. “Where did these letters come from? Was someone handing them to you?”
“No,” Perry said, startled by her vehemence. “Miss Josephine brought them in with the rest of the morning’s mail. She told me they had been hand delivered with some things for the cook.”
Laura swallowed thickly, slipping her hands into the pockets of her apron and feeling the letters crinkling under her fingers. “I apologize if I startled you. I am just concerned about where they are coming from.”
Ducking back out of the kitchens, Laura made her way up to the children’s rooms. It was early, but they were no doubt already awake and she did not want to get behind in caring for them. They wouldn’t disturb anyone else in the house, but she felt it was important to be there for them when they needed her.
James had managed to get out of the bed and Laura’s breath caught in her throat, thankful that he had simply taken to playing with his blocks instead of trying to get out of the room. When he saw her enter, he grinned, tottering on his feet. He was starting to stand and wobble, but he couldn’t make it far, so she swept down, clutching him to her chest.
“How are we this morning, Master James?”
James gurgled a response, words almost making sense. Talking would come with time, Laura knew. Bruce was still asleep, blankets kicked down to the end of the bed, and she brushed his hair out of his face.
“Come on, Master Bruce. Time to wake up for breakfast.”
Bruce shifted in his sleep, face scrunching up and Laura had to look away for a moment, overcome with emotion. She loved both boys with a ferocity that startled her. Her mother had warned her, confessing that falling in love with children would be a natural progression of her job, but she could not allow it to color her actions. That didn’t stop Laura from wanting to sweep them up and protect them, to make sure that whatever was happening in the house at the moment wouldn’t sweep them along with her.
Managing to wrestle the children into clothes and wiping their faces, she carried them down to the dining room, ready for breakfast. Rockford and Duchess Claire were already present, both giving Laura a bright smile as she entered.
“I would have fed them in the kitchens,” Laura started.
“Nonsense,” Duchess Claire said with a wave of her hand. “It is not a morning well spent if the children are not here.”
“That will have to stop soon, mother,” Rockford said. His expression was pained as he took in his children, both boys already settled in their chairs. “They must get used to it.”
Duchess Claire was unimpressed if the look she turned on her son was anything to go by. Laura waved goodbye to both boys and made to leave before she could get drawn into the argument.
“Laura, dear,” Duchess Claire said. It had often startled Laura how improper Duchess Claire could be, for someone of such a peerage. She knew better than to say so aloud, would never have been so disrespectful, but she liked that Duchess Claire called her by her name and always had done. “It would not be the first time you have taken breakfast at this table.”
“No, Your Grace,” Laura said, inclining her head. “I do not wish to presume.”
“The boys will no doubt be lost without you.” Duchess Claire gave her a pointed look.
“Your Grace?” Laura
implored for Rockford to intervene. She was uncomfortable enough having not told them about the letters, she did not want to have to take breakfast with them while feeling guilty.
“My mother has spoken,” Rockford said, though he was smiling at Duchess Claire indulgently. “Please sit and eat.”
There would be talk in the servants’ quarters later, Laura was sure of it, but the boys were staring at her, and she could not let them down. Slipping into the seat next to Bruce, she tucked her hands into her lap, waiting for the breakfast to be brought out.
“So,” Duchess Claire said, tucking a napkin over her lap. “How have you been faring since the incident in the library?”
Laura startled, touching a hand to her forehead in remembrance. “The pain has almost gone completely. I still have no idea who could have done it.”
Rockford scowled as he took a sip of his tea. “It seems as if firing the footmen did some good after all.”
“Perhaps not,” Laura said, before she could stop herself.
Rockford’s eyes narrowed, and Laura had seen him angry before, but never directed at her. Duchess Claire rested a hand on her son’s arm and he startled, before letting out a slow breath. “I apologize, Miss Williams, I did not mean to frighten you.”
“It is alright,” Laura assured him. She let her gaze wander over the two boys, both of whom would need cleaning after the meal, and thought about the letters currently scrunched up in her apron. “I have been receiving letters.”
Duchess Claire demanded to see them, slipping her glasses onto her nose as Laura produced the three crumpled pieces of paper. Duchess Claire took one, Rockford the other two, and they read them with pursed lips, expressions smoothed out. She couldn’t tell what they were thinking, hoped they would not think less of her for keeping it a secret.
“I am sorry,” she said abruptly. “I should have told you about them, but I feared that if I made a fuss, it would draw someone out and they would hurt the boys.”
“You are not in trouble,” Duchess Claire said. She folded the paper a couple of times and stared at Laura over the top of her glasses. “This is indeed concerning.”
Regency Romances for the Ages Page 78